


Five Weeks

by rei_c



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Jessica Moore, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Families of Choice, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Sam, Pack Bonding, Pack Family, Stanford Era, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's seven pm, January twenty-fourth, and Jessica Moore is sitting on her couch with a crying omega in her lap. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(aka, the one where Jess has to keep Sam alive until Dean comes to claim him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Weeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [formalizing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/gifts).



// Day Zero //

It's seven pm, January twenty-fourth, and Jessica Moore is sitting on her couch with a crying omega in her lap. Well. Technically not a full omega yet, but really, apart from the slick and the womb and the scent, there's not much more to go. Sam's the most complete near-omega beta she's ever seen. Eight years of waiting for your mate, though, would probably have something to do with it. 

It's also the reason why Sam's here, came home with her after class and curled up on the couch like he's planning on never moving again. Jess had tutted at that, had sat down and pulled Sam on to her, and she's been stroking his hair for three hours now as he shakes. There are no tears, of course, but every muscle in his body is urging him to go to his mate, to go to _Dean_ , and he's fighting it so hard, the barest hints of a whining keen coming from his throat every so often. The first hour, Sam'd been saying some pretty fucking awful things about himself -- about how he can't take that choice away from Dean, how he's not good enough for Dean, how he's a mistake, that if Dean wants him, Dean knows where to find him. 

It's Dean's birthday today and Jess thinks Sam should be there. Dean's presented, finally has the knot Sam's been dreaming about for years, and Sam should be there to make it easier on both of them. He's stubborn, though, and so he's here, soaking her shirt with sweat as he trembles so violently that he may end up seizing if this doesn't stop soon. 

"Need anything?"

Jess looks up at her mate, thinks again how lucky she was that the planets aligned and the gods were having a good day and that she had been running late her first morning of classes or else she wouldn't have seen Emily across the quad. Emily had stopped, practically mid-step, and looked at her, just _looked_ at her, and that was enough to set Jess's hormonal change off -- and hadn't that been its own surprise. 

"Nah, we're good," Jess murmurs, tilts her head at the cushion next to her. "Don't think Sam's in any mood to need much of anything right now, anyway," she adds, as Emily sits down and flares her own scent over Sam, puts one hand on his shoulder a couple seconds later. 

"Only a few more hours to go until midnight," Emily says, crooning at Sam. "Then the worst of it'll be over. You just have to hold on a few more hours, Sam." 

Sam doesn't respond to that; neither of them expected him to. Actually, Jess is still amazed that Sam made it through the day and waited until he was here to break apart. For all the self-loathing Sam feels, he's one of the strongest people Jess has ever met. 

"He sent the student relations office an email this morning," Jess says, pausing to coo at Sam as a particularly violent spasm shakes his body, running her fingers through his hair to cup the curve of his skull. "They gave him the rest of the week off." 

Emily smiles up at Jess, says, "He won't take it."

Jess nods; the most she can hope for is keeping Sam home tomorrow. Sometimes being as stubborn as Sam is can be a blessing, but Sam always seems to turn it around on himself like he's punishing himself for something. 

If there's one thing Jess and Emily have learned about their Sam, it's that he's very good at hating himself. 

She clings Sam a little tighter, lets the control over her alpha disappear completely, and gives into the instinct to protect the near-omega she's adopted into her little family. 

 

// Day One //

"...Jess, come on, Jess, wake up. Jess, come on, open your eyes for me, okay?"

Jess groans, does as asked, squints and has to rub her eyes before they'll open all the way. The room's light, must be morning, and she -- and Sam and Emily -- are all curled up together on a pile of blankets and pillows and clothes in the corner of the room. Jess looks around herself, takes in the mess, and asks, "Did I _nest_?" 

"You carried Sam and a couple cushions from the couch to the corner," Emily says, "and then ordered me to stay with him while you got what I'm sure is every single blanket and pillow in the house. Sam pretty much collapsed when it hit midnight, just -- like someone had hit the power button or something. It was," Emily shakes her head, gathers her courage. "It was a little creepy, to be honest. My first few heats were hell alone but at least I didn't have to go through something like this." 

"Most omegas don't," Jess says, "even if they're the younger one. But our boy's always been special."

There's a discontented grumble from one corner of the nest and Sam sticks his head up, hair tangled every which way, crease-lines down his cheek. It'd be adorable if there weren't bloodshot eyes and leftover spasms shaking a pale, worn-out body to ruin the picture. 

"Not special," Sam mutters, winces as he takes stock of his body, evidently. 

Jess knows better than to argue. "I'm going to run you a hot bath," she says. "Em and I will bring in breakfast as well, get some food in you. Is there anything else you need?" 

Sam's frowning, says, "I appreciate it, I do, and I'll never be able to thank you for last night, but I don't --"

"Samuel Winchester," Jess says, mostly growling as she tries so desperately to hold back an alpha order, doesn't want at all to do that to Sam, "I am _going_ to run you a hot bath. You are _going_ to sit in it and enjoy it. And while you're in it, you are _going_ to eat something."

"Fine," Sam snaps, and there's a hint of curled lip in that one word. "Go run the fucking bath, then. _Alpha_." 

Jess does growl this time. She feels bad as soon as it comes out but then she looks at Sam's uptilted chin, the defiant set to his jaw, and can't help a chuckle or two. "I know I've said this before, but your father must've had a hell of time with you." She reaches over, puts her hand on Sam's cheek, watches as he fights to keep himself from turning into the touch. "Please. You're part of my pack, Sam. Let me take care of you."

Sam's always been good at handling alphas; he studies her, meets her gaze, looks at Emily and has a silent omega-to-omega conversation with her, and then sighs. "You're gonna have to help me up," he admits, quietly. "I don't think I can walk." 

"I can work with that," Jess says, and just like that, the protective alpha instinct has been channelled away from anger and into purpose. "Come on. We can do inventory while the tub's filling." 

\--

Sam lets out a sigh of bone-deep relief when he sinks into the hot water. Jess can't imagine how he feels; she saw how much of a toll it took on his body. He's got bruises everywhere, is still shaking, and he couldn't hold back a pained gasp when he tried to walk unaided. An ankle, he thinks, tells her. Even the ache of a broken ankle, though, isn't enough to overwhelm the muscle tension and the slight fever he's running, the flu-like symptoms on top of everything else. 

She reluctantly leaves Sam in the bath and goes to the kitchen, helps Emily put together a plate of soft foods that will be gentle on his stomach. 

"In the bath?" Emily asks, rubbing her cheek on Jess's arm. 

"Yeah," Jess says. "Finally. He wanted to brush his teeth and check out his mouth first." 

Emily looks at Jess, asks, "And?" 

Jess lets out a sigh. "Still has all his teeth but he's bitten his lips and tongue ragged, and his gums are bright red. Em, I -- he's not in good shape. Not at all." 

"That's why he has us," Emily says. She picks up the tray, gives it to Jess. "Go and take care of him. Make sure he eats at least a third of the plate." 

"Yes, omega," Jess says, teasing as she brushes her nose over the small mating bite on Emily's neck, gives it a lick as well for good measure. Thank god she has Emily and thank god they were normal, that they didn't have to go through this. For all of the good things Sam's been given because of his early mating, there are far too many drawbacks -- especially with Dean still out of the picture. 

 

// Day Four //

They convince Sam to stay with them, share worried glances when it doesn't take much effort at all. He's so tired that he sleeps for a solid twenty hours, curled up between Jess and Emily. After that, it's mostly the same: Sam gets up, takes a bath, eats a little, and sleeps for far longer than he should need to. 

Then there's the day when Sam doesn't get out of bed. He doesn't sleep but he's not really with it, either; he just lays there and stares at the wall or ceiling, whichever is in his line of sight. He'll move when Emily asks, sips down half a bowl of beef broth that Jess feeds him spoonful by spoonful around noon, but other than that, there's no one home. 

Jess hates it, of course she does, and she feels so helpless that she's about to cry with anger. If she knew where Dean was, she'd go and get him and drag him here by her fucking teeth. If Sam had a way to contact him, she'd call, text, do anything. Sam's alone, though, apart from her and Emily, and Jess has been ready to let Sam leave at the first sign or scent of Dean, she _has_ , but there's nothing. 

Just like there's nothing left in Sam.

 

// Day Nine //

A little over a week past Dean's birthday and Sam has bounced back enough that Jess is willing to let him out of her sight -- she's not happy about it, but she recognises that he needs his own space, just like she and Emily need to get back to some sort of normal. Jess and Emily take Sam home in the back of a cab, each holding one of his hands tightly, almost bruisingly so. He leads them up the steps and to the door, unlocks it and opens it but doesn't step inside. 

"Sam?" Jess asks, carefully. "We're home. Is something wrong?" 

It's like that question strikes a spark that quickly turns to a raging inferno. "Wrong," Sam says, low, sounds deadly. "Is something _wrong_?" He stalks inside, overturns the first piece of furniture he comes across -- a console table with a few books and an intricate statue of an angel on top. Books and glass go flying and it's like that sets off a bloodlust Sam completely gives in to. 

Sam destroys his apartment, utterly tears it apart. Everything that can be broken is, everything that can be thrown is, everything that can stomped on and screamed at is. Jess just stands in the doorway, watching, shielding Emily from the debris flying everywhere. She knows, without a shadow of doubt, that if she tried to stop Sam right now, he'd turn all that fury on her, pack-bond or not, and she might be an alpha but she doesn't like her chances against Sam. 

When it's done, after a couple other people in the building pop their heads out of their doors to see what's happening, Sam sinks to his knees in the middle of his living room. He leans back his head and howls, one long and mournful howl that echoes in the room and makes the windows quiver. 

Then, just like that, he's done. 

"Sam?" Jess asks, unwilling to leave her mate unprotected even though everything in her wants to go to Sam, pick him up, remind him that he's wanted and loved.

"He's not going to come," Sam says. "It's been over a week and he's -- I need to clean." Sam takes a deep breath, stands up, and Jess is too bewildered to do more than say his name again. "Cleaning will keep me busy. And if Dean -- it needs to be clean." He turns, looks at Jess, and she flinches when she sees the manic desperation in his eyes. "I need to clean." 

Jess says, "We can help --" 

Emily cuts her off. "We'll tell the student office you need a couple more days," she says. "And if you need any supplies, let us know, okay? We'll bring them over whenever you need."

Sam looks past Jess to Emily, takes her in with eyes and nose both, nostrils flaring wide and open. There's a twinge along the pack-bond but it's omega-to-omega and Jess has no idea what it means. 

"Yeah," he said. "I'll -- I'll let you know."

\--

Emily ushers Jess back outside and Jess lets her, knows that Emily has a reason for leaving Sam alone. They're a block away before Emily says, "His instincts are going haywire, Jess. His mate didn't come and maybe that's because of his home. He's thinking now that what he has isn't good enough, that maybe if it's all gone and Sam starts from scratch, Dean -- stop growling every time I say his name, please -- might like that. He might come, then. And, there are a lot of scents in his home. Your scent." 

"What's wrong with my fucking scent?" Jess says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. She throws her arms up, says, "Your scent, my scent, that's all that's fucking kept him alive the last week! What the fuck is wrong with it now?" 

"It's in his _den_ , Jess," Emily says, as if Jess is purposefully missing the point. "He has the scents of another half-dozen alphas in his home and yours is on _everything_. His instincts are telling him that maybe his mate is keeping away because of that. Now, are you done throwing a tantrum in the middle of the street in broad daylight? Because we could stand to do some cleaning, too." 

Emily walks on without waiting for Jess and Jess is both simultaneously pleased that she's ended up with such strong-willed omegas in her life and baffled by the same. 

 

// Day Thirteen //

"You were thinking pretty deeply in there," Jess says, elbowing Sam as they leave their Classics lecture, "and I know it wasn't because you were focused on the translation; you can already read Sanskrit. Spill." 

Sam still looks a little lost in thought. He's walking as though he's not quite substantial, as if he'll suddenly break apart into atoms and disappear into the air, like the glue that's holding him together is drying and cracking off. It's something he's being doing all week, since he re-joined classes on Monday. 

"Did you know," he says, "that when you jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, you hit the water at seventy-five miles per hour? The impact from the fall kills ninety-eight percent of the people who jump."

"Sam," Jess says, pulls him to the side of the hallway, out of the way of other students. "Sam, please, look at me." Sam does, meets her eyes, but it's like there's absolutely nothing there. He's just -- empty, hollowed out of everything, christ, and she hadn't even realised. "Promise me you won't jump, Sam," she says, pleads. "Promise me you won't kill yourself."

Sam blinks, says, slowly, "My mate doesn't want me. What's the point without Dean? It's gonna happen sooner or later, might as well not draw this out any longer than I have to."

Jess is filled with such sudden, violent rage, that she has to grit her teeth and clench her hands into fists to keep from screaming. Fucking Dean Winchester, this golden boy Sam's always talked about with a soft, melancholic smile on his face -- Jess hates him. She always has, a little, for not coming with Sam in the first place, for letting Sam go without a single word for years, but this is just -- she wants to rip his throat open with her teeth, wants to see him in as much pain as Sam's been for years, wants to give his still-beating heart to Sam as food while Dean dies watching. 

"Listen to me, Sam," Jess says, her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "For all we know, your mate could just be lying in the hospital with a broken leg. Okay? It hasn't even been two weeks yet. You can't give up, Sam, please. Promise you'll try? For me and Emily, if no one else; we would miss you so much. You're part of our family, Sam, remember? We want you with us; you wanted us as family and we are, Sam, we're pack, and we'd be devastated without you." 

There's a moment where Jess thinks Sam's too far gone to even make out the words she's saying, but then a tiny little spark of life flickers in Sam's eyes. "Pack," he says, almost too faintly for Jess to hear. "Can I -- should I use the bond?" 

Jess raises her eyebrows, says, "I thought you already were. Jesus, Sam, you haven't pulled on it at all? How're -- you're -- yes, do it. Do it right now." 

Almost instantly, Jess feels such a tug on the alpha inside of her that she nearly falls over. Her scent flares wildly out of control and there's a sense, too, of energy draining from her, like she's suddenly realised she could happily sleep for a week. She can feel Emily, as well, the swell of omega instincts and energy twining with hers, and Sam's just drinking it down. 

By the time he's done and has pulled back enough to only draw a small, steady amount of support, Jess is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, panting. Thirteen days would definitely burrow deep into an omega, and Sam had reached the suicidal point as well, but shit, she never knew he was hiding that kind of depth. So many things make sense now. 

Sam's straddling her thighs, face buried in the curve of her neck, and she's holding him tight, ignoring the looks from other people. She can tell that Sam's saying something but doesn't know what, not until classes start and the halls are empty apart from them and one or two latecomers. 

"'M sorry, I'm sorry, please, alpha, don't be mad, please, I'm sorry," over and over again. 

She's going to tear Dean Winchester apart so very, very slowly.

\--

Eventually Sam stops crying. He doesn't seem to want to move, though, and Jess isn't going to make him. She's already had to snarl off a few students; she'd reacted before she could think, her packmate completely out of it while she's too weakened to protect him. Every time, Sam buried himself deeper into Jess, closer, as if he finds the noise, the rumble in Jess's chest comforting. A couple more classes let out and start, people coming and going, and then someone wearing a counselor's badge crouches in front of Jess. 

"We had a few people saying that there seemed to be a problem?" she asks, quiet, kind, and soft. "Will your beta be all right?" 

Jess looks down at Sam, nuzzles his hair. "He's my family-bonded omega," she says, "not my beta. This is Sam Winchester." 

The counselor nods, eyes wide, in sudden understanding. Of course her department would be keeping an eye on Sam; he told them about missing school when Dean presented but never confirmed the mating. "Is there anything I can do for either of you?" 

"We're just waiting for my mate, then we'll take Sam home," Jess says. "It's been a bit of a stressful day for all of us." 

"Is it alright if I wait with you?" the counselor asks, quickly adds, "On the other side of the hall, of course, but just in case?"

Jess nods, is a little taken-aback by the blinding smile that crosses the counselor's face but can't help smiling back. Huh. She is -- incredibly good at her job. 

\-- 

It's another four hours before Emily comes in sight, helped along by one of her fellow postdocs. Jess doesn't like anyone else touching her omega when they're in this state, all three of them weak, vulnerable. If she had more energy, she'd -- 

There's a twinge in the bond and Sam pulls back, wipes off his face with the back of one hand. Jess feels like she got a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart and Sam's giving her a watery smile with those closed-off, knowing eyes. 

"We'll help Em get home," he says, reassures her as he scrambles off Jess to take Emily's weight from the other student. Emily practically collapses into Sam's hold and Jess is there a moment later. 

They're going to have a talk about this -- about Sam not using the bond, about how strong his omega is, about how he can manage to control himself so well, about how many times he's surreptitiously bolstered the bond without her knowing -- but later. 

Jess needs to get her family home and get them in the nest she hasn't had the heart to clean up yet. 

"'M fine," Emily says, words slurring together as she sways on her feet, eyes taking longer to open back up each time she blinks. "Honest. Jus' tired. And no, Sam," she adds, nestling her face in Sam's chest even as she's got one of Jess's hands in a death-grip. "Jess needs t'get us home. I'll be fine. Keep it. Okay? Keep it f'r you. Take more if you need it." 

"Took too much," Sam says, and there's the hate again, the disappointment, the guilt, all directed at himself. "I'm fine to get back home. Just hold on," and he sweeps Emily up in his arms, bridal-style, and tells Jess, "We need to get to the car, alpha," even as he's walking for the door. "Would you please clear the way for me to put her in the backseat?" 

Jess smiles a little, shakes her head, because this is classic Sam, but the counselor's gaping as Sam walks steady down the hall. 

"He's not --" 

"Normal?" Jess says, as the counselor trails off. "No, definitely not. Sam's one of a kind." She thanks the counselor and then takes off after Sam and Emily, gets there just in time to open the door for Sam. He grins at her and she grins back, and it's so hard to remember that six hours ago, he was talking about jumping off the Bridge. 

 

// Day Twenty-Three //

Jess goes back to her normal schedule, for the most part: classes on campus, internship in San Francisco, study groups and dinners, take-out and movie nights at home, cuddled on the couch with her mate. She keeps an eye on Sam, though, and has Emily along with several of their friends do the same. Sam's pulled himself together for the most part, with astonishing willpower and self-control; he's keeping up with his classes, goes out one night for pizza and beer with some of his other friends, and greets Jess with a smile every time he sees her. 

She worries, though. Something in Sam has changed, something deep and burrowed into the soft, tender parts of his omega. It's like he's reached some sort of acceptance -- acceptance of what, Jess isn't sure and is too afraid to ask. Alphas can survive an omega's rejection but omegas always, _always_ , wither away into nothing if they don't kill themselves first, and though Jess prays they're past that, this acceptance might be Sam's way of saying that he's ready to die, ready to go to sleep one night and never wake up again. Of course, it might just mean Sam's willing to wait until Dean shows up; as much as Jess wants to rip Dean apart, that's definitely the better option. 

Dean's stubborn, after all, that's what Sam says, and Dean might be too stupid to track down his mate or too hesitant to form that kind of bond with his own brother, but biology and instincts will always win. Jess just hopes that the driving urge to claim his mate will overpower Dean's stubbornness -- and fucking _soon_.

 

// Day Thirty-Five //

Acceptance gave way to stillness, a subtle change that Jess and Emily felt through the bond but no one else seemed to see. Jess hated it, had no idea what it meant, but she thinks she'd rather have that back than see Sam as happy as he is right now, practically floating as they walk home together. 

"You're glowing," Jess says, finally, when they're two blocks from Sam's apartment. "And bouncing." 

"He's getting closer," Sam says, and his smile is so wide, so breathtakingly beautiful, that it takes Jess a moment to focus on his words instead of his expression. "I think he's coming here. I can feel him." 

Jess prides herself on being an optimist but even she can't help but wonder: what if Dean's coming to reject Sam in person? 

 

// Day Thirty-Seven //

Jess is in San Francisco when the bond between her and Sam abruptly dies. She nearly passes out, has no trouble citing pack issues to leave early, and she's on the phone with Emily before she even gets out of the building. 

"He's fine," Emily tells her. "Honest. I can still feel him; he's just pulled back a little. Could be because you're alpha -- he'd have to tamp down your connection if he's forming a new bond with Dean, right?" 

The words make sense but until Jess lays eyes and hands on Sam, she's not going to believe that he's alright. Maybe this is a reminder that she shouldn't depend on the bond as much as she has the last five weeks, but the steady, reassuring thrum of _Sam_ isn't there and it should be. 

"I'm on my way," Jess says, sprinting for the train. "I'll go check on him." 

"Jess, he's fine," Emily says. "I swear to you, he's okay." She pauses there, lets out a deep breath, adds, "But I can see why you'd want to know for yourself. Okay? So go check on him and then come home. We can get take-out tonight, maybe. It's been awhile since we've had Indian." 

Jess breathes, holds on to the hope Emily's offering her. "Yeah," she says. "Take-out, whatever you want. I -- Em, I'm sorry, I am, I just." 

Emily chuckles, says, "No need. You're a good alpha, Jess. Go check on our boy." 

\--

Jess practically tears the doors off the bus and runs the five blocks to Sam's apartment. With every step she curses herself for ever letting him out of her sight. Sam is her responsibility, her family, _pack_ , and --

No. No, she can't think that, even with the cessation of Sam's presence from the bond. Emily can still feel him, she's just overreacting. He's there, he's gonna be fine, he is, she won't accept any other answer. 

Jess doesn't pause to catch her breath. She jams the spare key into the main door and takes the steps to the third floor two at a time. Once there, she stops, abruptly, and swallows, blush rising on her cheeks. The smells coming from Sam's apartment -- she and Emily might be able to match the scenting but it'd take days and Sam's had less than an hour. Fuck.

For a second, Jess lets the other scent flood her senses, takes in every aspect of Dean, his alpha. He smells rough but clean, more than a bite of teeth but the violence in him is tightly leashed, and there's a comfort as well, an aura of protectiveness and care. Rain and grass, gun oil and burnt rubber, warm leather and cold steel. If Jess ran into an alpha like that on the street, she'd be cautious. Here, though, now, she doesn't care what Dean Winchester smells like, what his scent tells her, because he's in there with _her_ packmate. If Sam's dead, then Dean is right here for her to kill. If not, then she wants to get an eyeful of this other alpha, let him know what he's done to Sam and that there's another alpha in Sam's life that's willing to fight tooth and nail for his happiness. 

Jess knocks, steps back from the door. The doors in this building are thin; she hears an instant snarl at the interruption, followed by some growling, and so help her, if Dean tries to keep her from Sam -- but then Sam's snarling back, sounds like he's getting closer, and Jess could drop to the floor in relief. Alive and defiant and fierce, thank god. 

There's a subtle little tug on the bond, just enough for Jess to feel, and then Sam opens the door, smiling brightly. Jess is about to smile back, reassured to have Sam in her sight, but then she sees the state of his neck and shoulder, torn completely to pieces, to shreds, oh god, and the looming presence behind Sam, the alpha pheromones flooding outward, tell her that Dean is not at all happy with her showing up on Sam's doorstep. 

Jess couldn't care less. 

"Sorry," Sam says. "Emily called, said I narrowed it off too much but," and he waves backwards, gesturing at Dean, "new bond, so I didn't want anything to interfere. Don't worry, though, okay? It's still there."

"Promise?" Jess asks, quiet, concerned. "Sam, we -- I can't do that again, Sam." 

Sam tilts his head just the tiniest bit, enough to let Jess see that Dean's stroking his fingertips down the back of Sam's neck, even as he's keeping his eyes on her. "Promise," Sam says. "I'll need to figure it out with, y'know, but I promise. And, uh." Sam reaches up to push some hair off of his face, arm brushing against the blood and meat of his claim, and rather than flinch or keen at the pain, Sam smiles, a light that Jess has never seen before shining bright in his eyes. "I'm gonna call the student office in the morning," he says, "take a few days off. Dean says I'm not allowed to leave for a while." 

Jess growls at that, instantly, and, just as quickly, Dean pushes Sam behind him, stands in front of Sam with such rage-filled, deadly eyes that Jess suddenly understands where, how, and why Sam learned to deal with alphas so well. If their father was even half the alpha that Dean's turned out to be, it's a miracle Sam still has his independence. She has no idea how he had the strength, even the ability, to leave his family but thank god he did, so she could have him. 

She takes a tiny step forward, enough to tell Dean that she's not afraid of him, that Sam's important to her and that she'll go toe-to-toe against him to make sure Sam's happy. Jess bares her teeth, knows her eyes are filled with just as much hate as Dean's, and doesn't care. 

"He's mine," Dean says, low, pointed, "not yours. If I say he's staying in, he's staying in."

"Oh," Jess says, furious beyond all belief. "Is _that_ the kind of alpha you are. Great. What, you gonna pull him out of school, knock him up, and keep him barefoot in the kitchen? Think you got yourself a nice little broodmare? I'll tell you right now, Dean Winchester, I don't care if you're his brother or his mate or the last fucking alpha on this planet, you will not do that to Sam. I won't let you."

Dean smirks, asks, "And how're you gonna stop me?" 

Jess smiles, knows it looks less like a smile and more of a threat, as she says, sweetly, "You couldn't tell? He has a pack-bond with me and my mate. He's just as much my family as he is yours." That gets through to Dean; she sees him flinch, just a little, even though the expression on his face doesn't change. "I was here when you refused to come for your omega. I was here every night he sobbed for you. I was here every time an alpha looked at him the wrong way." Every single word has hit Dean but Jess knows what she's about to tell him is going to _hurt_ and she's so ready for it. "I was here when you presented and his body nearly killed him. And I was here when he was ready to kill himself because his mate hadn't come to claim him yet." 

Dean's lips part at that and all the colour drains from his face. Jess can see Sam moving behind him, watches as Sam nuzzles Dean's neck. "I'm here, Dean," Sam murmurs. "Always here. Yours. Deep breath; I'm fine, you claimed me, it's okay."

"Is it true?" Dean asks, as he tugs Sam to his side, wraps Sam up in his arms, holds him tight but so gently, like he might break, like he's -- like he's something precious. "Sam, is she --" 

He stops like he doesn't know how to ask all the questions he has, and seeing the two of them together, shit, Sam was right, they fit together perfectly, Dean's dread and horror, Sam's calm reassurance, the way Sam's lithe figure moulds so perfectly to Dean's muscles. 

"Yes," Sam says, doesn't pull any punches. "When you didn't come, I thought you'd rejected me. You presenting, then staying away, nearly killed me. And when it didn't, I nearly killed myself."

"You will never do that," Dean says, and Jess isn't sure that he knows he actually just issued an alpha-order. "You will never kill yourself, Sam, do you understand? You'll come to me before you get to that point." 

Sam tilts his head in invitation, a subtle movement that Jess wouldn't have been able to pick out if she wasn't so familiar with him. Dean gets it, though, and instantly, because a moment later, he's kissing Sam, and it's tender, relief after being scared beyond death. 

"I understand, alpha," Sam says, once they've parted. 

Jess waits; when it doesn't look like Dean or Sam even remembers she's here, she says, "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to know. Sam -- he told you to stay home for a few days and you're _okay_ with that?"

Sam melts into Dean, says, "Dean knows me," like that answers the question. Jess makes a little noise of disbelief and raises an eyebrow in a silent demand for more; Sam grins at her. "His alpha knows me, then. He knows I'd feel guilty for skipping classes, for taking advantage of the bond to stay home and just fuck for a while. C'mon, _you_ know how guilty I'd feel about that. I mean, I'd stay if he asked but I'd be stressing about classes every free second. This way, I don't really have a choice, right? There's nothing I can do about it. So I might as well not worry."

Jess feels side-swept by that and it looks like Dean has been as well, as he mutters something about instincts that makes Sam laugh. Dean kisses Sam's forehead, then his cheek, then his nose, before he leans to inhale the ruin of Sam's skin. Sam purrs, eyes drooping closed, and Jess's eyes widen. She knows that sound -- not from Sam, but from Emily, who only sounds like that when she's furiously, deliriously, completely happy.

Dean looks at Jess, studies her, finally holds out his right hand, the left arm still wrapped around Sam, and says, "Dean Winchester. Maybe we could try again in a few days? I'm still running a little hot here."

It's not an apology but if Dean gave one, Jess would have to as well and she's not sorry for a single word she's said. She glances at Sam as she takes Dean's hand, shakes it. "Jessica Moore," she tells him. "And call me when you're ready. Sam has my number."

"He'll call," Dean says, adds, "and I would never keep him in the kitchen. You must know how shit he is at cooking." 

Jess snorts, can't help it, and Sam smiles even if he doesn't open his eyes or stop purring. "Nearly burned down the dorms our freshman year," Jess say. "It's a good story, one I like to tell."

Dean looks at her, takes her in, and then accepts the olive branch she's offering. "If you'd be willing to tell it to me sometime, I'd be happy to listen," he says. Sam's purr deepens and Jess feels the tension from their pack-bond decrease just a little, enough to make her sneeze. When she's opened her eyes again, she catches Dean looking at Sam, an unguarded look, and it's full of such wonder and pride and devotion and love.

She may never forgive Dean for leaving Sam by himself for those five weeks, these three years, but it looks like Dean won't ever forgive himself either. Maybe that's a good enough place to start paying penance. 

"I'll leave you two to it, then," she says. "Sam," and she pauses, because normally she'd hug Sam tight, lick his neck to leave some of her scent on him, but she can't do that with Dean there. "Bye, I guess," she says, weakly. 

Sam opens his eyes, looks at Dean, and they have an entire conversation silently right in front of her. It only lasts a handful of seconds but then Dean's eyes are narrowing as he lets Sam leave his side, reach out to Jess. Jess doesn't hesitate; she sweeps him up, cuddles him close, puts one hand on his neck -- the unclaimed side -- to feel the steady pulse under her fingers. 

"We'll be fine," Sam says. Jess bites back the idea that she doesn't give a rat's ass about how Dean's going to be, she's only worried about Sam. It's like Sam can tell, though, because he whispers, "Give us a couple days. And warn Emily." 

They stay like that just a moment more, then part, Sam going back to Dean's hold, instinct fitting him right to Dean's side without even having to look. Jess takes a step backwards, unwilling to give Dean her back, though she stops to say, "You two might wanna think about turning on some fans." 

The door closes on Sam's laugh and Dean's good-natured moan and while Jess still hates Dean with every fibre of her being, she might be able to learn to tolerate him for Sam's sake. 

Might.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Three Weeks Too Late (the 'Five Weeks' remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114547) by [rei_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c)




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